


Waltz

by starduster



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 00:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3337412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starduster/pseuds/starduster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inigo wants to dance; Gerome would really rather not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waltz

The manor is a big, crumbling monstrosity, abandoned in haste when the front lines of war drew too close for the soft-handed aristocrats to bear. It’s only been a year or two since it was lived in, and its majesty is still evident when the Shepherds declare it their camp for the night.  There’s plenty of room for all of them, spread across four floors and thousands upon thousands of square feet of house.  The horses and wyverns and pegasi are penned up outside in the comfortable roomy stables, and the Shepherds are relaxing in the ruined splendor of the old country house. 

And so, of course, Inigo feels it absolutely necessary to bother Gerome.

Not that Gerome’s complaining, of course. 

Rain pounds on the roof and grey light filters in through dusty windowpanes, bathing the hall in a dull glow as Inigo and Gerome wander down it, Gerome’s hand clenched in Inigo’s bone-crunchingly tight grasp.  Inigo rambles on and on about some trivial thing or another and Gerome half-listens dutifully.  They don’t get to spend much time together, so just being beside the insufferable idiot is enough to keep him content until they get a chance to get alone and try to do much more.  Although, well, they don’t really need to keep their relationship quite as secret as they used to.

The memory sends a flush up Gerome’s face from a combination of embarrassment and faint arousal.  Their first time had been a fumbling, painful affair, not helped by the fact that Olivia had walked in on them when Gerome was up to his balls in her son’s ass and Inigo had tears drying on his cheeks.  And, as expected, within a day every Shepherd knew of their little tryst, including Gerome’s own mother, and gods knew he wasn’t ever going to live down the talking-to he’d gotten from her.

“…rome!”

Inigo’s voice snaps him out of reverie, and he realizes that they’re standing in the middle of the manor’s ballroom.  “Huh?  What?”

Inigo smiles and flicks Gerome teasingly on the forehead.  “Earth to Gerome.  Hey, dance with me!”

“No.”

Inigo’s smile flips into a pout.  “Aw, c’mon, Gerome!  Just one little dance!” He grabs Gerome’s other hand and swings their hands side to side like a child.  “You never have any fun, just loosen up for once!”

Gerome sighs, a frown pasting itself on his face.  “Loosen up, he says.  That’s good, coming from the man who can’t relax his ass to save his life.”

“W-what!  Why are you bringing _that_ up?!”  Inigo sputters, face reddening dramatically.  “Hey, it was only because you’ve got such a big dick that—“

Gerome steps forward, closing the distance between them and shutting his partner up with a firm kiss.  Inigo sighs happily against his lips, relaxing against him and loosening his death grip on Gerome’s hands.  His arms slip around Gerome’s waist but he makes no move to take anything any further, just content to stand there and let Gerome kiss him.  When Gerome finally pulls away, Inigo grins sheepishly. 

“Ha ha, sorry,” he mumbles, letting his forehead rest against Gerome’s.  “I got carried away there.” 

“Of course.”  Gerome huffs out as he attempts to wriggle out of Inigo’s hold.  Inigo’s touchy-feely tendencies are something he has yet to get used to, and while he’s more than happy to hold hands or cuddle after sex, Inigo twining himself around him in public in the middle of the day is not quite comfortable.  Reflexively Inigo’s arms only tighten further.

Inigo presses a feather-light kiss to the tip of Gerome’s nose, smiling an earnest little smile and making Gerome’s heart flutter.  “Hey, dance with meeee,” he whines, shifting his weight from foot to foot, trying to sway Gerome with him.  Gerome holds fast.  Inigo pouts again, sucking on his cheek and looking adorably stupid in that way only Inigo can. 

“Fine,” the dancer grumbles, taking a step forward and pressing himself to Gerome’s chest.  “If you’re not going to dance with me, then I’m not going to let you go.” Inigo presses a kiss to Gerome’s cheek and resumes his incessant rocking, all the while humming a tuneless melody and looking mighty pleased with himself.  He’s slowly rocking the masked man in a tiny circle as Gerome scowls into his hair, and eventually Gerome feels the irritation rising enough in him that he capitulates and wraps his arms around Inigo’s waist.

“…how do we do this, then?”

He can practically hear the victory in Inigo’s voice.  “Well, I have no idea.”  He grins his insufferable grin, stepping back from Gerome a couple of paces and beginning to position their hands: his right on Gerome’s hip, Gerome’s left on his waist, their free hands joined and slightly lifted.  “This probably isn’t right,” Inigo murmurs, glancing down and nudging Gerome’s feet into what looks like it could be some sort of acceptable stance.  “But it’ll work.”

With an awkward start he yanks Gerome into movement, yelping when Gerome’s foot lands squarely on his own.  “S-sorry,” Gerome mutters, eyes focused intently on the movements of their feet as Inigo laughs quietly.

The dancer starts humming again, a slow _one-two-three one-two-three_ tune that doesn’t sound like it should really be a waltz, but he lets Inigo swirl him slowly about the ballroom anyways.  When they’re finally less at risk of smashing each other’s’ feet he looks up to Inigo’s face, sees him smiling back at him with such adoration in his eyes that Gerome’s glad he can’t see the blush that lights up beneath his mask.  Again Inigo just laughs, leaning forward and peppering kisses across Gerome’s face.

“See? It’s fun,” he murmurs, lifting their joined hands and forcing Gerome into a stuttering little spin.  Their boots tap rhythmically on the old wooden floorboards as Inigo resumes his song, and they whirl around and around as the music reaches a crescendo. Gerome finds himself unwittingly lost in the movements, in the soft smoothness of Inigo’s fingers tangled with his own, in the soft hum of Inigo’s song. 

And then Inigo tries to dip Gerome gracefully down, his head no doubt filled with delusions of some romantic moment held in such an intimate pose, but instead he overdoes it and sends the two of them crashing to the floor in an ungainly heap.

“Tch,” Gerome grunts outs as his head cracks against the floor and Inigo’s weight comes plummeting down onto him.  Inigo lands with an undignified ‘oof,’ groaning lowly. 

“That… didn’t work like I wanted to,” he says, laughing breathlessly.  He rolls off of Gerome, lying beside him on the rough wood as they try to regain the air Inigo knocked out of both of them.  His hand comes to rest on Gerome’s thigh, patting gently.  “Well, that was fun.”

“If that’s what they’re calling it now.” With a pained grunt Gerome sits up and pulls himself to his feet, offering a hand that Inigo gladly accepts.  Inigo pops to his feet and dusts himself off like nothing happened.  Silently Gerome lifts a hand to cup Inigo’s cheek and leans in to kiss him, soft and chaste, and he feels Inigo smile against his lips. 

“I knew it,” Inigo giggles when they separate, and he grabs Gerome by the hand again as they make their way out of the ballroom.  “You _did_ enjoy it.”

“I did,” Gerome agrees, “until your fat body crushed me.”

“I’m not fat! It’s all muscle!”

“Muscle? You’re a twig.”

“You just said I was fat!”

“Whatever,” mumbles Gerome, but his smile betrays him.  “The next time we dance, I’m leading.”

Inigo snuggles up to his side, sighing happily.  “Yeah, I’ll let that happen.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> god these two


End file.
